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There wasn’t a doubt: there would be an Uno Kudo Vol. 2. The first book was a best seller on the anthology list and raised a nice amount of money for a worthy charity. But following the first book, a strange thing happened. The writers and artists who were included began to talk. They picked up telephones and said, “Oh hi, hello—so strange that we’ve never hung out before.” They bounced emails back and forth—“Wanna help me drink this vat of Pinot Noir?” Parties sprung up. Snail mail popped into mailboxes: birthday cards, odd little handwritten notes. These people had all fallen in love with each other. They started talking. Collaborating. Plotting. Devising. They took vacations together. It was baffling. This kinda' thing wasn’t supposed to happen anymore.

An art collective. A modern day art collective. Really?

Yup. It spans the U.S.A. and it’s spreading … inching out daily. Like the Blob … Seattle, Los Angeles, San Diego, Portland, Boulder, Brooklyn, Upstate New York, Chicago … that Johnny Cash song, I’ve been everywhere man … Sure! Sea to shining sea. Europe too. Pins on the map in Japan, South America, anywhere there’s a somebody leaving a light on. We’d like to come to your town—absorb you just like the Blob did. We’re friendly though. We’ll slather you in neon DayGlo paint and ... well, lots of things will happen.

There’s a place for you here in Uno Kudo. Read. Look. Write. Create. Speak. Buy me a drink. I’ll buy you a drink. We’ll get naked and things will glow with an impossible hum—reverberating with a tinge of welcome danger.